Goal of the day: 146 words. Written: 368.
Time is ticking. Dreams do not disappear. Last letter to the girl I loved.
A year and 4 months or 500 days after the breakup: December 16, 2015.
The wind of the meadows rustled outside the window.
And I stood in front of him naked.
It wasn't a normal night - normally I'm rarely standing naked in front of an uncovered window without making any effort to cover up my not-so-athletic legs, hips, cleavage and boyish chest. All the more so when I am perfectly illuminated by the reflections of the delay, and I, apparently, saw a girl passing by on the road.
She was there for a moment and as soon as I could get out of bed she was gone. And although I had been waiting for ten minutes, her short-cropped white head did not come out from behind the hill behind which she was supposed to crawl, or from the other hill, or anywhere else. As if she ran and hid there.
I thought about getting dressed and going out into the darkness of the night to find her. But I resisted. Instead, after waiting a few more moments, I turned over, closed the curtains and went to bed.
The next morning I got the doorbell.
* * *
"Mileta! Miletus! Mi-ileta-a!”, I shout. Mileta doesn't answer, and my voice fades into the fog.
It's a strange feeling standing in the fog when your girlfriend just left you. You'd think you'd feel empty after a breakup, but in the fog, the feeling is the opposite? You feel enveloped, protected and safe in the fog.
* * *
We looked into each other's eyes. Like the dumbest lovers in the world. We were lying in the same bed, our legs entwined and our palms under each other's heads.
We watched. And we smiled. Hesitantly, his lips quivering a little with joy. It was good for us. We wanted the moment to last forever.
* * *
Her hair was cut short. That's the first thing I noticed - I always notice a girl's hair first. She was wearing a bright pink top and was looking at me defiantly.
I'm not confused. And why did I have to? After all, I myself asked the people around me, which of them is either funny or smart, and would like to go kayaking with me. I laughed, shook my head and waved my hand at the nearest kayak. "This will be ours," I explained to her immediately.
* * *
I love her, I thought. "I love her--unbelievable," I repeated in my mind. I wanted to write something nice about my girlfriend, but I couldn't think of anything. A million thoughts were running through my head, but none of them were interesting, loving, or true enough to express.
I sat there thinking, "I love her, I love her, I love her." I kept saying it like an idiot. But it didn't bring new ideas.
remembering
Daniel